Dorothy at Oak Knowe Part 25

"n.o.body missed her, but, she did not come home with the rest. I've 'phoned to the police to look for for her and the boy, but it's a disgrace to the school to have to do such a thing. Besides, Robin's mother is half wild about him and declares she must walk into town to seek him."

"You're foolish, the pair of you. Stop and reason. Robin is thoroughly familiar with the city and suburbs, from his messenger-boy experience.

Dorothy is blessed with a fair share of common sense. If they wandered away somewhere, they'll soon wander back again when they realize what they have done. I'm sorry you stirred up the police and they should be warned to keep the matter quiet."

"Oh! they have been," answered the weary Lady Princ.i.p.al. "It does seem, lately, that every good time we allow the girls ends in disaster."

"Never mind. You go to bed. You've done all you can till morning."

Miss Muriel did go away but only to spend the night in watching along with Lady Jane in the library, the latter deeply regretting that she had ever suggested this outing and, like the Lady Princ.i.p.al, both sorry and angry over its ending.

Dorothy had ridden to the exhibition in the very last sleigh of all, as Robin had in the first, and when they all left the hotel after dinner he had lingered beside her while she waited for the other teams to drive on and her own to come up.

This took a long time, there was so much ado in settling so many girls to the satisfaction of all; and looking backward he saw that there would still be a delay of several moments.

"I say, Dorothy, come on. I want to show you where we used to live before my father died. We'll be back in plenty time. It's the dearest little house, with only two rooms in it; but after we left it n.o.body lived there and it's all gone to pieces. Makes me feel bad but I'd like to show you. Just down that block and around a side street. Come on. What's the use standing here?"

"Sure we can be back in time, Robin?"

"Certain. Cross my heart. I'm telling you the truth. It's only a step or so."

"Well, then, let's hurry."

Hurry they did, he whistling as usual, until they came to a narrow alley that had used to be open but had now been closed by a great pile of lumber, impossible for them to climb.

"Oh! pshaw! Somebody must be going to build here. But never mind. Our house was right yonder, we can go another way."

His interest as well as hers in exploring "new places," made them forget everything else; and when, at last, they came to Robin's old home a full half-hour had pa.s.sed.

It was, indeed, a sorry place. Broken windows, hanging doors and shutters, chimney fallen, and doorstep gone. n.o.body occupied it now except, possibly, a pa.s.sing tramp or the street gamin who had destroyed it.

"My! I'm glad my Mother can't see it now. She never has since we moved down to our cottage in the glen. It would break her dear heart, for my father built it when they were first married. That was the kitchen, that the bedroom--Hark! What's that?"

"Sounded like a cat."

"Didn't to me. Cats are squealier'n that was. I wonder if anybody or thing is in there now. If I had time I'd go and see."

"Robin, wouldn't you be afraid?"

"Afraid? Afraid to go into my own house, that was, that my father built with his own hands? Huh! What do you take me for? I'd as soon go in there as eat my din--h.e.l.lo! There certainly--"

They put their heads close to the paneless window and listened intently. That was a human groan. That was a curious patter of small hoofs--Dorothy had heard just such a sound before. That surely was a most familiar wail:

"Oh, Baal! My jiminy cricket!"

"Jiminy cricket yourself, Jack-boot-boy! What you doing in my house?

I'm living in yours--I mean I'm boot-boy now. How are you?" cried Robin, through the window.

"Who'm you? Have you got anything to eat? Quick! Have you?"

The voice which put the question was surely Jack's but oddly weak and tremulous. Dorothy answered:

"Not here, Jack, course. Are you hungry?"

"Starvin'! Starvin'! I ain't touched food nor drink this two days. Oh!

Have you?"

Daylight was already fading and street lights flas.h.i.+ng out but this by-way of the town had no such break to the darkness. Robin was over the rickety threshold in an instant and Dorothy quickly followed.

Neither had now any thought save for the boy within and his suffering.

They found him lying on a pile of old rags or pieces of discarded burlap which he had picked up on the streets, or that some former lodger in the room had gathered. Beside him was Baal, bleating piteously, as if he, too, were starving. The reason for this was evident when Robin stumbled over a rope by which the animal was fastened to the window sash; else he might have strolled abroad and foraged for himself.

But if Robin fell he was up in a second and with the instincts of a city bred boy knew just what to do and how to do it.

"Got any money, Dorothy?"

"Yes. Twenty-five cents, my week's allowance."

"I've got ten. Mother said I might keep that much out of my week's wages. Give it here. I'll be back in a minute."

He was gone and Dorothy dropped down on the dusty floor beside Jack and asked his story. He told it readily enough, as far as willingness went, but his speech lagged for once and from sheer lack of strength.

"I left--seeking my fortune. It warn't so easy as I thought it would be. I've hired for odd jobs, held horses, run arrants, helped 'round taverns, but didn't get no place for steady. Trouble was, folks don't take no great to Baal. They'd put with him a spell, treat him real decent till he'd up and b.u.t.t somebody over--then his dough was cooked.

The worse he was used the better I liked him, though I'd ha' sold him for money if I could, I've been hungry so much the time. And that right here, Dorothy, _in a town full o' victuals_! Just chock full.

See 'em in the winders, see 'em in the markets, on wagons--and every created place, but not a speck for me. But I got along, I'd ha' made out, if I hadn't et somethin' made me dretful sick. It was somethin'

in a can I picked up out a garbage pail, some sort o' fish I guess, and I've been terr'ble ever since. What'd he go for? Why don't he come back?"

"I don't know. I reckon he went for food. How did you keep warm in here, if this is where you lived?"

"Didn't keep warm. How could I? I ain't been warm, not real clean through, since the last night I slep' in my nice bed at Oak Knowe."

"Why didn't you come back? Or go to the railway stations? They are always heated, I reckon."

"Did. Turned me out. Lemme stay a spell but then turned me out. Said I better go to the poorhouse but--won't that boy never come!"

"He's coming now, Jack," she answered and was almost as glad as he of the fact.

Robin came whistling in, good cheer in the very sound.

"Here you are neighbor! Candle and matches--two cents. Pint of milk--three. Drink it down while I light up!"

Jack grabbed the milk bottle with both hands and drained it; then fell back again with a groan.

"'T hurts my stummick! Hurts my stummick awful!"

"Never mind. I'll turn Baal loose and let him find something outside.

A likely supper of tin cans and old shoes'll set him up to a T. Scoot, Baal!"

The goat was glad enough to go, apparently, yet in a moment came bleating back to his master. Dorothy thought that was pathetic but Robin declared it disgusting.